Fore She Was Mrs Weasley
by Evil Queen of the Demon Pandas
Summary: Who is Molly Weasley? Or, more importantly, who did she used to be, before she was Ron's mother? Oneshot I threw together.


**A/N:** Inspired by Clay Walker's song _'Fore She Was Mama_. I was bored and flipping through the music on my computer, and it occurred to me: who was Molly Weasley before she was Ron's mother? So here it is. The result of a curosity and an hour I probably should've used doing my Algebra homework.

"...7, 8, 9..."

"Run!"

"Don't _push_, Fred!"

"Then get out of my way!"

"Don't step on the baby!"

Molly Weasley glanced up from her knitting as three red-haired boys rushed past her and up the stairs. Not even bothering to yell after them, she gathered Ginny into her arms and settled the toddler at her side, giving her a ball of yarn to play with.

Fred and George always hid together. Ron never failed to be amazed at their expertise in hiding two people when he could barely manage to hide one. But there they were, folding themselves into a trunk Ron could barely fit into - and he was only seven years old.

"What about me?" he whispered, peering over the edge of the trunk. Their parents' room was a whole two stories above the living room, where Charlie was counting, but he still didn't dare raise his voice.

"Go find somewhere else!" the nine-year-old twins hissed.

He opened his mouth to argue, but Charlie's shout of, "Ready or not, here I come!" jerked him into motion. Trying to be as quiet as he could, he darted across the room and into his mother's big closet.

Gasping for air, he huddled against the door, listening hard. He didn't really trust the twins not to tell Charlie where he was - well, not Fred. George could keep his mouth shut sometimes. Charlie's footsteps thundered through the house. Ron heard his older brother burst into Percy's room and Percy's ensuing shrieks of indignance. Ron wrinkled his nose and pressed his hand against his mouth to hold in the laughter. The boys had invited Percy to join their game (despite the twins' protests) but the crazy kid had decided he'd rather read instead. Sixteen-year-old Bill was too busy writing a letter to some girl he'd met at Hogwarts to play - and he was too old besides.

Ron waited tensely as Charlie searched the twins' room, Ron's, his own, and their sister's. His legs were beginning to ache and cramp. He laid his hands on the floor and lowered himself carefully into a cross-legged position. Much to his annoyance, his legs began to tingle painfully. Chewing his lower lip furiously, he looked around for something to keep himself from yelling. A foot from his right knee, teetering precariously on a stack of old newspapers, was a plain brown box, with only one word written in big black letters on the lid:

FORBIDDEN.

He forgot the pain instantly and reached for the box. A thin sliver of light illuminated his lap as he pulled the lid off and peered in. Several old photographs lay on top of yellowed parchment, but in the dark he couldn't really see who was waving up at him. He lifted the photos from the box, squinting at the parchment beneath. He couldn't see much, and what he could see he couldn't really read. The ink was fading, and besides he couldn't read very well yet anyway. He managed to find his mother's name scrawled at the top of what appeared to be letters, mostly surrounded by hearts. Screwing up his face in concentration, he lifted one of the letters to his face. He was instantly engulfed in the overpowering scent of roses as a few dead flowers fell from the parchment.

He couldn't help it. He coughed, just as he heard Charlie's footsteps in the room. He clamped his hand over his mouth, horribly aware of what he'd just done, but it was too late. Charlie flung the door open, grinning down at him.

"Found you!" he cried. "I found Ron!"

Ron scowled up at his brother. "Shut it," he grumbled, putting the lid back on the box.

Charlie's gloating expression flipped to one of curiosity. "What's that?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. I found it. There's a few pictures, and some letters to Mum," he explained, taking the lid off the box and handing it to the older Weasley. Charlie sat down on the carpet, suddenly more interested in the box than the game.

Fred and George climbed out of the trunk, complaining loudly about not being found.

"Shut up!" Charlie ordered, frowning at one of the pictures.

The twins were even nosier than Charlie. Their protests vanished when they knelt on either side of Charlie, looking at the box with excited eyes. Ron, never to be left out, crawled to Charlie's side.

"Who _is_ that?" Fred demanded, plucking the picture from Charlie's fingers.

Charlie dug in the box for a moment and uncovered a whole handful of them. "I think...I think they're of Mum," he said in a hushed tone.

George snorted in disbelief. "Can't be. This is some girl on a beach in a bikini. She's got a tattoo, for Merlin's sakes."

The boys goggled as Charlie discovered photo after photo. He wouldn't let them read the letters, but the photos were free game once the twins snatched them. There was one of Molly on a broom, her arms around the middle of a tall, burly man who glowered at the brothers. In several of them she flaunted a hip-high tattoo of a Gryffindor lion, pointing to it and laughing. Only a few included a much younger Arthur with more hair than any of the boys remembered. Most were of Molly with friends, several of whom were tall, musclar wizards she seemed to be particularly fond of.

Finally, Charlie collected all the photographs and placed them gingerly back in the box. Quiet and wide-eyed, the boys returned the box to its exact place in the closet and retreated to their rooms without saying a word. Ron's head spun. His mother, portly little Mrs. Weasley - surely she had never ridden a carpet with a Middle Eastern wizard? And she couldn't have gone to a Weird Sisters concert - certainly not wearing _that_.

The house was eeriely silent as Molly fixed supper. The only sounds she heard out of any of her children were Ginny's giggling as she chased the cat around the kitchen. At seven she called them in for supper. Arthur wouldn't be home until late: he was working extra hours to pay for Charlie's birthday. Bill was full of chatter about this new girl he was chasing, and Percy's excitement about his new book was almost contagious.

Almost.

But her youngest sons were oddly quiet. Despite her best efforts, she could only coax hurried, monosyllabic answers out of even the twins, who were usually irrepressible. Ron was the only one who would meet her gaze, and he dropped it quickly as the trademark Weasley blush tinted his ears red.

"Boys, _what_ is going on?" she demanded finally.

Ron glanced at his brothers in horror. The twins looked to Charlie, speechless for the first time in all their nine years. Charlie took a deep breath, set down his fork, and lifted his head.

"Wefoundyourboxofphotos," he said in a rush, snapping his mouth shut as soon as the words left it.

The silence that fell was almost worse than the embarrassment. Ron's eyes darted nervously from Charlie, who was pale underneath his freckles, to his mother, who was simply staring at them. Then, slowly, her face began to glow pink.

"B-boys, that was a long, _long_ time ago," she stammered. Her sons watched with open mouths as she smoothed her dress, obviously flustered. "I was-I was very young, and I did things I'm not proud of, and-" She stopped and took a deep breath, giving them each a very level look. They shrank down a little, quivering under her suddenly steely stare. "You're to forget that box, do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am," they muttered.

"Hmph. Now, eat your supper." She smoothed her skirt one last time before lifting her own fork.

The boys glanced at each other, then at the other Weasley boys. Percy was gaping in shock and horror, while Bill seemed torn between laughing and demanding to see the incriminating evidence. The four finished supper as quickly as possible and put themselves to bed, avoiding their mother at all costs. The last thought that scurried across Ron's mind before he buried beneath his Chudley Cannons blankets was a vague pondering if Molly still had that Gryffindor tattoo.


End file.
